Big Mac

I remember when I began following Mark McGwire as a baseball player. I was in 7th grade and just getting into baseball cards. I bought a 1988 Topps Mark McGwire card noting that he hit home runs. This was something I treasured since Jack Clark played with the Cardinals. St. Louis was never known for its power hitters, so Clark shook my imagination. I changed my hitting stance to look like him. But McGwire was the new and, my goodness, 49 homers!

I watched the 1989 World Series on TV, happy that the Athletics beat up the Giants. Watched the series in 1990 when the A's got the crap kicked out of them by Cincinnati.

In 1990 my parents took my brother and I to Chicago to Old Comisky Park to see the A's play the White Sox. My mom was pregnant with my youngest sister. It was a blazing hot day and I think mom and dad spent most of the game in lines for lemonade and ice for mom. Our seats were right on the field along the first base line in the sun (still the closest I've ever sat!). At some point McGwire came up and hit a homer to left. It made my summer.

When he came to the Cardinals my parents again got tickets. I'd just started going with my girlfriend (to be fiance, to be wife) and was reluctant not to spend time with her. But I went to the game and saw McGwire's first homer as a Cardinal. Later that summer and the next in 1998 I would go and see more of his moon shots, this time with my baseball fan girlfriend. One, against the Cubs, was the longest homer hit in old Busch Stadium. Another was when my brother took me to a game for my bachelor outing before my wedding.

So now there is the admission of past excursions with steroids. Whether they helped or hurt I don't know or really care. I never looked upon Mark McGwire as other than a hitter and someone to track. I never asked his opinion on what field of study to choose or whom to marry. I am sorry that Mark did what he did and that he, along with most of a generation, won't be given the recognition they (may) deserve.

But in the end, I really just miss watching the ball fly out of the park with him running the bases.